Killer Dolls, Part 3

by Nisa Santiago

  For a few minutes, Aoki lingered in the bloody backseat with the bodies in the car. She was hot and sweaty with mixed emotions. She took a deep breath. The Commission was going to be proud. She was also hoping that this was it. She had killed for the organization for a while, and her twenty-fifth birthday was approaching. Aoki had enough blood on her hands from all the murders she’d committed to fill up a blood bank twice over.

  She wasn’t afraid of being caught. The world around her felt still. There was no sound. No traffic.

  She looked at her victims and smiled. “It’s been fun, boys, but I need to go.”

  She cleaned herself up and stepped out of the car. The Commission had instructed her that they wanted the bodies found on the streets. She’d done her part. Now it was time to go back home. She couldn’t wait to step on US soil again.

  *

  The flight was crowded for the lengthy plane ride back home. The 747 ascended from the stretch of runway at Heathrow Airport and quickly soared into the sky, London fading from view. Aoki sat comfortably at her window seat and closed her eyes with the shade closed. She had no desire to look back.

  She smiled to herself, though. She had left something behind in the hotel for the staff to clean up. Right before she’d checked out, she took care of the two spoiled brats who had disrespected her in the elevator. She had slipped into their large suite in the middle of the night and waited for them. When they arrived, she attacked them both. They were no match for her. With both boys bound to their beds, she stabbed them repeatedly.

  Nine

  Aoki ordered herself another plate of oxtail. There was nothing more fulfilling than a tasty Jamaican dish. She liked to linger in the Jersey City restaurant alone, feeling that the place was a safe haven for her. She tried to move unpredictably, knowing that having a routine could get her killed, but she just couldn’t quit this good Jamaican food. Their dumplings were almost to die for.

  She finished her meal at Patti Joy, paid the bill, and stepped out into the nippy weather wearing a short navy blue coat. Tired of the cold weather, she dreamed of the day she would permanently escape to Jamaica with her millions of dollars. She wanted to buy a beachfront home, drink ginger beer, eat beef patties and coco bread, and find a man to love her. She climbed into her car and headed back to the city.

  Aoki stepped into her Manhattan apartment and instantly knew that she wasn’t alone. In the dark she felt her presence near.

  She asked in a cool tone, “How long yuh waitin’ fih me?”

  “A while, but I’m a very patient woman,” she replied.

  Aoki turned on the lights and saw Muriel seated in a chair with her legs crossed, smoking a cigarette.

  “It’s what dey teach us, right?”

  Aoki’s handler was in her late thirties, beautiful, and blessed with long blonde hair and long, shapely legs. She was from a small town in Ukraine that the world had forgotten—an impoverished and distant place, where she had seen her family starve and the women raped repeatedly by sadistic men. Her home was torn apart by civil war and violence. She too had been raped when she was a young girl, but Muriel rose up from it kill-by-kill and became a cold professional killer with deep roots in The Commission.

  Many men were threatened by her, but Aoki wasn’t. They locked eyes. Muriel saw a lot of herself in Aoki. They had both come from a place of pain and anger and were survivors.

  Muriel stood up, showing off her height of six one, plus the height of her boots. She was an Amazon of a woman wearing a simple knit skirt suit. She never desired fancy. She extinguished her cigarette into the chair she was sitting in, staining the material, and handed Aoki another murdergram.

  “Me love dat chair,” Aoki said.

  “Buy a new one. This one is very important. I wanted to deliver it to you myself,” Muriel said in her thick Ukrainian accent. Though she was Aoki’s handler, Muriel didn’t come around often.

  Aoki took the package. Another assignment so soon after the London job. She hadn’t even received congratulations for a job well done. She looked reluctant for a moment, but it was a fleeting feeling. She was bred to kill. She didn’t need any rest.

  “Who dis time?”

  Muriel dodged the question. “She’s a special one, and you need to be careful.”

  Aoki opened the package to find an 8x10 photo of a pretty young woman. She knew the girl from somewhere but couldn’t put her finger on it. Aoki read the name of her target: Cristal Monroe. Then it dawned on her that the girl was an agent. She had been trained on The Farm too, but now she was on The Commission’s list to be killed.

  “She ah agent, like me so.”

  “She’s a threat that needs to be taken care of.”

  Aoki nodded. “Me will do it.”

  “She took out several agents in North Carolina.”

  “Me hear ’bout dat.”

  “She’s trained with our organization and GHOST Protocol, so don’t get too cocky. Kill this bitch and come back home.”

  Aoki was somewhat impressed that Cristal had also worked with the competing agency. She had so many questions that she knew Muriel wouldn’t answer.

  “How she ah work for GHOST too?”

  “Ten weeks,” Muriel said, giving her the deadline and ignoring the question.

  Aoki was somewhat taken aback by the timeline. Ten weeks was a lifetime for a skilled assassin to execute a hit. “For de job?” Aoki said. “Special bitch, huh?”

  “You find her, you kill her quickly. We have a lot invested in this job. No fuckups.”

  Aoki nodded.

  Muriel made her way toward the door, Aoki following behind her.

  Before walking out, Muriel turned around and stared at Aoki. She repeated, “You have ten weeks to get the job done.”

  “What ’bout me retirement?” Aoki asked out of the blue.

  Muriel didn’t say a word. She pivoted and walked out of the place callously like she was bred to do.

  Aoki sighed. She didn’t fret; another job meant more pay, more respect, and another kill under her belt. She stared at Cristal’s photo and went through the information The Commission supplied on her last known residence, her weapons of choice, and her likes and dislikes. Aoki had to read her like she was a book. Where would she go? Where would she hide? What would she do? Cristal didn’t have any family left to do surveillance on or vet for information, since they were all dead. Nor did she have any attachments, except an ex-boyfriend named Daniel. The file said Cristal hadn’t had any contact with Daniel since his graduation day.

  Aoki knew there was some way to track her down. There was something or someone. That someone was Daniel. She studied the picture, stared into Cristal’s eyes like she was hypnotized, and continued thinking. The Commission believed that Cristal hadn’t been in contact with her ex in months, but Aoki felt they were wrong somehow. It was shown that Cristal was deeply in love with this man.

  The agents had fucked up the job at the graduation ceremony. It was a bloodbath, and Cristal managed to escape. Aoki wasn’t going to allow that to happen again. Now it was her contract and her responsibility. The Commission wasn’t going to accept failure. Failure meant death for her, and she didn’t have plans to die, not when she was so close to retirement.

  Aoki took a seat and continued thinking like she was Cristal. “Where yuh at?” she asked out loud. “What yuh gwan do?”

  Aoki had all day to think about Cristal. She figured her target would still be in the States, as opposed to going overseas. Why go international when either way her life was in danger? Cristal would only stand out in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. Aoki figured Cristal would want to blend in as much as possible. Maybe she had gone South and taken residence in a small town.

  Aoki figured if Cristal was keeping in contact with Daniel it would have to be subtle. Daniel would put her on the fast track to finding Cristal, who wou
ld want to keep close tabs on him just in case his life was in danger via The Commission.

  At least that’s what Aoki would do.

  Ten

  AZ held the star-key pendant with a cushion-cut yellow diamond in his hand and admired the stones. It was an impressive piece with an 18-inch platinum chain.

  “You have very good taste,” the saleslady stated.

  “It’s for my wife.”

  “She’s going to love it. I know she will.”

  He smiled as he continued to inspect the key. The price tag was over $20,000, but the cost meant nothing to him, since he had just netted millions from his latest drug transaction, and there was much more money to come. He wanted to buy something special for Wendy, and there wasn’t anything more special than an expensive gift from Tiffany in New York, which would be his last stop before he got on the highway and headed back to Maryland.

  “I’ll take it.” AZ handed the pendant back to be boxed and wrapped.

  “Wonderful.”

  Wendy had been busy with trials and pre-trial hearings lately. The cases were continuous for her office—drugs, murders, rapes. Being an assistant state’s attorney in Baltimore was a strenuous job, but it was also rewarding. Wendy wanted to put away the bad guys and looked to one day making her city a better place to live. She had a high conviction rate and was known to be a pit bull in a skirt in the courtroom. Her team of paralegals and investigators were good. She put a 110% into every case she prosecuted. She wanted to become a voice for the victims and advance to one day become a prominent judge.

  But her marriage with AZ was failing, and AZ wanted to spice it up with gifts. That always put a smile on her face and made her feel giddy.

  “How would you like to pay for the item? Check or charge?” the lady asked him.

  “Cash,” he said.

  AZ removed two ten-thousand-dollar stacks and placed them on the counter before adding another $5,000 to the pile for tax and tip.

  After the extravagant purchase, he climbed into his truck, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot with the signature blue box with the white bow on the passenger seat. He couldn’t wait to present the necklace to his wife.

  *

  Wendy had a love for finer things in life. Money and material things were what moved her. No matter how heated their arguments or how nasty the things they said to each other, AZ knew he could always smooth things over by buying her expensive gifts.

  The year before, he’d bought her a Porsche Cayenne for her birthday. She was floored when she stepped outside to see her brand-new car with a large pink ribbon wrapped around it. She jumped for joy and threw herself into her husband’s arms and planted kisses on him that nearly left his face dripping wet. She’d screamed and broken out into the “whip and nay-nay dance” in front of her family, looking like she was performing at the Apollo Theater.

  “I love it! I love it! I love it!” she’d screamed out.

  AZ placed the keys into her hand, and Wendy took off toward the car like she was running in the NFL Combine and thrust herself behind the wheel like a child on a new bicycle. Her eyes gleamed with more excitement seeing it was fully loaded with leather seats, moon roof, XM radio, and more. She continued to holler with joy. It was her new toy to play with. The fact that her friends and family were around to witness the blessing gave her something to gloat about for months to come. That new car made Wendy forget about her intense argument with AZ a week earlier.

  Wendy wanted AZ to spend more time with the kids. She felt he was ignoring the boys and their well-being. He was always gone—New York, New Jersey, D.C.—leaving his family in the rearview mirror. It was growing tiresome to her. She had her career too, and their sons were growing up fast. With him traveling regularly, home was becoming a burden to her because she needed him there to help.

  Wendy was juggling home and working on a major criminal case in Baltimore. She was trying to prosecute two defendants who had committed a violent rape during a home invasion in East Baltimore. The victim, a thirty-year-old woman, was badly beaten and left for dead. Two black men took off with over ten thousand dollars in property and her innocence. What seemed like an open-and-shut case was now edging on difficulties, starting with one of her primary witnesses not being able to remember their faces. Plus, the presiding judge had denied admission of some vital evidence for the prosecution. Her days at the office were growing longer and longer, with the continuous paperwork and court hearings, and the babysitter was making a fortune from them.

  The couple had gotten into an argument that night, upon AZ returning home from New York. He cursed her out. She slapped him, and he was tempted to punch her in the face, but he kept his cool and didn’t explode on her. For a week, she ignored him and acted like he didn’t exist, but the new car on her birthday changed her entire mood.

  With gifts like cars, jewelry, clothes, and shopping sprees, she would warm up to him and become the best wife on the planet with sex and home cooked meals. Six months earlier, Wendy had become “Suzy Homemaker” for him, treating AZ like he was a king. She wanted him to purchase a vacation home in the Bahamas. It would be her escape from the madness of her job. And it was something that her mother and sisters kept on whining about; what was hers she shared with family.

  AZ did it with no problem. He put down a hundred thousand dollars on a sunny three-bedroom beachfront condo in Nassau, Bahamas. It had a comfy king-size bed, and the bay windows allowed the soft Caribbean morning light to penetrate the rooms. Wendy fell in love with the place. He loved it when she was kissing his ass.

  *

  AZ headed toward the Holland Tunnel and then jumped on the New Jersey Turnpike with a beam inside him. It had been a good day so far. His business relationship with Oscar was booming, and he had his best friend by his side. He and Heavy Pop were the drug trafficking dynamic duo. It was all about the money, and he was making plenty of it. It felt good to be back from the dead and to thrive in life. He and Heavy Pop were like the last men standing from his hood, with B Scientific and other hustlers like him nothing but a memory in the ghetto.

  Traffic on the Turnpike started to slow down coming into Trenton, New Jersey. For another five miles, cars and trucks crawled bumper to bumper. AZ sighed. It was going to take longer for him to get home. But it was Jersey, and it was expected. The radio was a bore, and he was about three hours away from home.

  He pulled out his cell phone and decided to make a call. Baron was on his mind. The man’s phone rang twice, and then he picked up.

  AZ smiled upon hearing Baron’s voice. “Hey, what you doing?”

  “I can’t really talk right now,” Baron replied nonchalantly.

  “Oh, I just wanted to see you. I’m on my way back to Maryland. Thought we could link up.”

  “Probably tomorrow.”

  “Okay, that sounds cool. We’ll talk.”

  AZ hung up feeling somewhat slighted. He wanted to feel Baron’s hard white flesh against his. There was something special about this pale white boy that created an erection so hard on AZ, it was almost painful to go a week without seeing him. He was just a booty call; some dick on the side when AZ needed some sexual healing. But things were getting interesting between them. AZ went from seeing Baron once a week to twice a week. Yes, he loved his wife, but he was a gay man who loved to pitch, and catch too.

  What was it about men that stirred a burning lust in the center of his belly? He was a married man with two kids, but still he was a drug kingpin on the down-low. For so many years, his secret had been safe, especially with Aoki dead. No one but his male lovers knew of his taste for men.

  Could he ever go without dick? He’d tried. The year he’d met Wendy, it had been seven months since he’d been with a man. Having thrust himself into the drug world, his violent rise among the wolves in the game permitted no time for love. He was focused on business and making his money.
Wendy was supposed to be his female hope—the woman who corrected him and gave him a family.

  They’d met at a fundraiser for breast cancer at the Lincoln Center in Washington D.C. Though his business was spreading poison on the streets, AZ wanted to make some difference with his money, and he wanted to rub elbows with a few political figures in D.C. He was well aware that in his line of business it was always good to have some powerful friends. AZ wanted his money to have limitless reach, and he was willing to contribute to various fundraisers, campaigns, transnational investments, and charities in the area. He wanted to induct himself into the business world and cement himself into the lives of folks that mattered. There was also the occasional blackmailing of someone of influence in case he got into a legal jam. AZ had to think three steps ahead of trouble. He had pushed his pawns farther onto the board, and now the pieces that mattered were moving right behind them.

  That night at the D.C. fundraiser, he locked eyes with Wendy from across the room. It was a fleeting glance for her, but his gaze lingered. She looked radiant in her black lace corset dress and Gucci heels. There was something about this woman that attracted his attention. She seemed relevant in a room full of politicians, lobbyists, rich businessmen, and high-end lawyers. She was able to hold a conversation and match wits with the best in the room.

  AZ approached her. Dressed handsomely in a Tom Ford suit with a price tag of seven thousand dollars, he exuded wealth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped to a woman and initiated the conversation. The ladies always approached him. But there he was, tapping his future wife on her shoulder and sparking up a conversation with her.

  Wendy liked what she saw, and there was chemistry between them. The bonus for AZ was finding out that she was an assistant state’s attorney for Baltimore. He saw her position as a major advantage for him.

  After a few dates with him, she fell in love, and AZ saw opportunity and a future with her. Not only would being with her cloak his homosexuality, but he could get inside her head and know her world. With Wendy being a prosecutor, AZ felt he had one up on the law. She believed he was a real estate developer. Why not? He had the knowledge and the wealth of the business. Together, they were a power couple.